Building Steam With a Grain of Salt

by DJ Shadow

Glass Trees

Glass trees are gamboling past me as I sit still
in wanderlust and
noting that the least of these sparkles
unlike a semi-precious jewel.
On the bus, parodies of television comedies are popular
passing conversation. We race together, you and I,
and I know there?s something special when
into the rhetorical frying pan goes that saucy
smile of yours.
I heat the ingredients together, stirring every
five minutes, and allowing to simmer. While
cooking, I can imagine the fields outside
my field of vision.
Soon the waxy people pretending
to be trees will melt into brown muddy messes
but for now I?m stepping out or riding through,
into the crowd of buildings,
into the color between the lines